Mistletoe and Wine
by madzebra
Summary: The Christmas party. Wilson was ruthless. Still, at least there was alcohol.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Just to say I can't believe I named this fic after Cliff Richard lyrics, but, hey, it fits so what ya gonna do? _

_Read and enjoy (hopefully!) and feedback would be appreciated._

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**Mistletoe and Wine**

'Never bet on whether or not you will attend a social event' were the words that reverberated inside Gregory House's head as he sulked in the corner of the room, armed with a glass of wine and Vicodin pills a reassuring weight in his pocket. The music playing combined with the mindless chatter of the rest of the hospital staff created an indistinguishable roar of sound; a dull throb was forming above his right eye to join the pain of his ever-aching leg.

The Christmas party - Wilson was ruthless. Still, at least there was alcohol.

Greg was trying to make himself look as unapproachable as possible. It had worked on Cameron and Chase who, after throwing looks of incredulity his way, scurried away into the throng of yuletide merriment in the wake of his scowl. He had yet to face Cuddy's amusement at the expense of his misery, the impossible might happen and he might get sympathy: she might be tipsy. He smirked at the thought. Either way, _that _confrontation was inevitable; he couldn't simply scare her off. Wilson was also suspiciously absent so far. Foreman, however, could not pass up the opportunity, and strolled over jubilantly with an amused eyebrow raised. It was much the same manner that he expected of Cuddy: she could pull it off better, though.

" To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"

" That would be your own curiosity. Until this moment I was trying, and succeeding, to avoid impressing my company upon anybody." He fixed Foreman with an implicating stare, " Kinda annoying when it's unwanted, don't you think?"

" Yeah, wouldn't want to be miserable at this time of year…" Foreman was smirking; oh, he got the hint and was promptly insulting him back, " Are you, maybe, going to venture out and talk to someone besides me?"

" As grateful as I am that you took pity on me, I like my corner, thanks - has a nice homely feel to it now..." Foreman rolled his eyes but smiled, " Besides, Wilson's motives are still unclear." Greg faked a panicked, paranoid expression, his eyes darting about the crowded room.

" Wilson?"

" What if he tries to take advantage of me?"

Foreman sighed despairingly and Greg felt the warmth of smug satisfaction.

" What's Wilson done? If anything…"

" He's lured me here under false pretences. He promised me a kiss under the mistletoe. So far, not only has he not put out, he's also done a vanishing act! I'm distraught!"

" I give up." Foreman shook his head, laughing nonetheless, and clapped Greg on the shoulder, " Merry Christmas, House." And vacated the corner.

Greg had considered telling him what Wilson had actually done and how it related to his being at the party. In truth, there were worse people in the world to have a conversation with than Foreman, and Greg was getting bored. However, on reflection, revealing his lapse of judgment concerning his rep at the hospital to Foreman was potentially embarrassing, and it would be explaining that, in this instance, his ego was his downfall.

James Wilson, in his eternal quest to make Greg socialise, had proposed a bet…

" _So…are you going to the Christmas party?"_

_The question had caught him completely by surprise, mainly because Wilson was the last person he expected to ask him such a thing, and, for a moment, Greg simply stared._

" _Well?" _

_Greg blinked, " Oh, you were being serious!"_

_Wilson snickered, but persevered, " Well, I knew the chances were slim-"_

" _I'd say there was a higher chance of Cameron taking Ecstasy and sleeping with- oh, wait…"_

" _And I do foggily recall a time when you attended staff social events."_

" _Are you sure it wasn't a dream?"_

" _It might as well be," Wilson sighed, " Nope, 'actually happened'."_

" _Huh…" Greg popped a Vicodin, sensing he might need it, " Well, to push away those oh-so-fun memories just a little bit more, my answer is no. I have a rep to maintain and, apparently, work on since even you still don't get the hint."_

_He watched Wilson's shoulders sag slightly in long-suffering resign which was covered effectively by a sceptical, amused expression. _

" _Your 'rep' a firm understanding throughout the hospital then?"_

" _Well, there might still be a few residents who don't scurry fearfully away as soon as they hear the click of my cane in the hallway." _

_Wilson smothered a laugh, " So, I'm the first person to ask you if you're going?"_

" _Yes, you're the first deluded idiot to ask me if I'm going."_

" _Not even Cameron?"_

" _Cameron doesn't count, her sickening sweetness intensifies at Christmas."_

_Another sigh, Greg knew he was biting back a retort in Cameron's defence._

" _Okay, so, considering you don't actually have faith in anything, you're suddenly misplacing it in your reputation?"_

" _Misplacing!" He pulled an over-dramatic wounded expression._

" _I bet you get asked at least…six times!"_

_Greg frowned, " Define 'get asked'. One person should only be able to ask once, otherwise Cameron will lose it for me."_

" _Fine."_

" _Fine, and when I win you can have a weeks worth of my clinic hours."_

" _You're so predictable. And if I win you have to come to the Christmas Party."_

" _You're so predictable. And you wont win."_

_A pause._

" _My asking you counts, by the way." Wilson smirked, " Oh, and Cameron."_

" Did you lose a bet, or something?" He spun around to see her blue eyes sparkling with amusement, " Cos, that's the only reason I can think of for you being here."

" Cuddy." Greg's eyes travelled their usual route over her form, taking in, with appreciation, her elegant, figure-hugging black halter-neck dress, " I'm here for the twins." He nodded, grinning, at her cleavage.

" Why are you here?"

" Free booze, entertainment that costs less than a hooker…" he wasn't looking her in the eye, " And your wickedly gorgeous self of course."

" Anytime you wanna be the slightest bit polite and address me to my face is fine by me."

" Yeah, but I know you're frowning right now without having to look. The view down here is much more easy on the eyes…"

" House!"

He looked up then, smirking at her irritation.

" See what I mean: entertainment."

" What?"

" Well, annoying you ranks highly on my leisurely pastimes…great fun, I assure you."

" I'm sure. Maybe you should get out more then." She began to walk away, taking a few steps when Greg saw her stop and followed her line of sight to see Wilson swiftly making his way towards them. Greg limped forewords to stand by Cuddy once more and glared at Wilson as he reached them,

" Bout time! The only thing I thought would make this bearable was the knowledge that I had you to torture if I was bored and you show up half way through!"

" I'm very sorry to have deprived you of your fun…divorce lawyer called. We got to talking things over and I lost track of time."

" You can make it up to me…" Greg wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

" You look nice." Wilson ignored Greg and smiled courteously at Cuddy who offered a smile of thanks in return. Greg watched the exchange, rolling his eyes.

" Yeah, yeah, yeah…Give it up, Jimmy. She's wise to your sweet-talking ways."

" Well, sweet-talking is better than anything I'd get in your company!"

" Please you figured that out a long time ago. You've had plenty of time to stop further interaction with me…" he paused, " Oh, but then you hired me." Then, as an afterthought, " You also didn't _need _to come over and speak to me tonight."

" And you didn't _have _to come to the party and enforce your obvious 'seasonal goodwill' on everyone!" Cuddy shot back, and Greg realised that, as usual, the space between them had lessened during their bickering. The distraction her close proximity caused prickled with heat in the back of his mind.

Then Wilson chuckled.

The arguing pair turned as one to fix their stares on him. Greg frowned, irritated, and beside him Cuddy asked confusedly,

" What's funny?"

Wilson gave another breathy, little laugh and shook his head. He began to speak and Greg knew the jig was up.

" Well, two things really. Firstly, he _did _actually have to come here tonight; it involves a little wager of ours and the fact that he lost-"

" Ha!" Cuddy turned on Greg, triumphantly, " I knew it! I knew that was the only rational explanation-"

" Yeah, have your laugh about how crappy these things are that I have to be forced to attend against my will." Greg growled, but Cuddy continued to laugh.

" What were you betting about?" she asked, looking to Wilson eagerly. He grinned and, as he launched into it, Greg's eyes turned to the floor, exasperation rolling over him in waves.

" _You just had to say it, didn't you!" Greg yelled, and the child before him began to dissolve into tears. The horrified and angry mother proceeded to run across the clinic waiting room to swoop her daughter away, only pausing to yell, " What the hell is wrong with you!" at him. However, the grimace on Greg's face was due to the knowledge of who he'd find behind him when he turned around. Sure enough, there was Wilson, his expression alternating between reproachful and smug._

" _You yelled at a child, House!"_

" _She just condemned me to at least four hours of crappy music, fancy clothes, boring colleagues and stupid, fake, nauseating Christmas joy!" Greg yelled, miserable, " And I couldn't even pretend it never happened because you were standing right next to me!"_

" '_Fraid so. I do believe the great Gregory House has lost."_

" _Because my staff are idiots, you and Cuddy are too damn persistent, and small children have to listen to the nurses gossip around the water cooler! See, this! This is why I avoid clinic!"_

_Wilson smirked, unmoved. _

" _Party's tomorrow night at eight, House. Don't be late." He clapped Greg on the shoulder and walked away, missing the crude hand gesture Greg directed at his retreating back._

_He was not going to go, he was not going to go…Greg's mantra was sound and resolute. To hell with Wilson and his goddamn bet! He had better things to with his time. The carpet of his office was taking a beating as he paced back and forth. He felt restless and twitchy, so moved to his desk to reach into his bottom drawer. He frowned, then, after a minute, swore. _

_In the place where his gameboy usually rested there lay a short, concise note:_

" _Just for insurance. You'll get it back after the party._

_Wilson" _

" And the second thing, Wilson?" Greg interrupted finally, ignoring Cuddy's satisfied smirk.

" Sorry?"

" You said two things. You were amused about something besides your insignificant success that you're all celebrating more than the real reason we're supposed to be here?"

" Oh, that. That's…" he pursed his lips, " You guys are standing under something…interesting."

Greg looked up, knowing Cuddy was doing the same, and almost instantly closed his eyes again, regretting it immediately. He felt like a man on his way to the gallows, and above him, the deceivingly innocent looking sprig of mistletoe hung there like the hangman's noose. Strangely enough, at the same time, his stomach did something he had hardly ever felt it do…it flip-flopped; the feeling of butterflies. The idea…what it implied he had to do with Cuddy…_to _Cuddy. Lisa Cuddy.

" You have got to be kidding me." her voice mumbled despairingly, and he saw she had half-directed this comment at Wilson, who was standing there attempting to stop himself grinning. Greg wanted to hit him. He felt the firmness of the cane in his hand and considered it's potential as an effective weapon.

" Oh, no. No way…This is insane…" Cuddy was still talking in an annoyed, worried and slightly breathless way that intrigued him as he looked around and saw more than a few heads of party guests nodding and whispering, looking in their way. Greg almost grinned. Oh, it would shock them! And possibly prove right what a lot of them had been saying for years…And still Cuddy's quiet words to herself cut through his haze of contemplation. She had a knack for doing that. Greg turned and looked at her and saw her body turn towards him.

Greg didn't know why he did it. Afterwards, when his brain had fully engaged, he would blame it on the wine; the influence of the alcohol catching up to him at last, making him more reckless, if that were possible. Or perhaps he wanted to shut Cuddy up and get out of his predicament and saw this action as killing two birds with one stone. Whatever the reason for it, he found himself merely watching her lips move rather than registering the words flowing out of them. The urge swept through him like a jolt of adrenaline entering his system and he couldn't resist. His lips were suddenly on hers, warm and soft, and his tongue was in her mouth, opened in shock, tasting her daringly. Eyes closed, he wouldn't deny the fact that he was enjoying it. He had won one over her and smiled, knowing she could feel it.

He expected her to pull away, to shoot him a furious look, to even hit him, but Greg should have known not to presume _anything _on her part for sure. If he hadn't, he mightn't have been so surprised when she began to kiss him back.

Greg almost pulled away in his amazement, but he had faltered for a second and she had taken control. She bit his bottom lip slightly, as if to make it understood that there was, and would be, no tenderness behind their kiss. Then he understood her game; and he knew it was dangerous. Like their every interaction, their kissing was turning into a fight for dominance. He knew the truth in the way they were with each other; he also knew that she knew. It was an understanding, and that was why he was being drawn into the dance. He wondered, for an extremely brief moment, how this development between them was being received by those around him. How they interpreted it. Greg did not care, yet it was a wonder that Cuddy didn't…at least not yet. He wondered who would win. He wondered _how_ either of them would win.

He wondered when his hand had moved to her waist.

One could not mistake it for slow and loving, their mouths moved feverishly, suppressed attraction encouraging the raw passion. Something that wasn't a physical reaction stirred within him and it disturbed him because he undeniably felt it. He _wanted _to slow it down, commit the taste and feel of her to memory. There were feelings buried deep behind their roughness and Greg's hands itched to touch more. The dance he initiated had turned against him; he was losing himself, he wanted it to become something more. It had to stop because of this. With a mental wrench he broke away, sucking in oxygen, lips tingling, the taste of her lingering. This was why he had lost.

Cuddy was also out of breath, and Greg found her heaving chest a distraction before jerking his eyes up to hers; blue met blue in an intense gaze, and he fancied he saw the remnants of clouded desire fade. Then an expression fell into place which held volumes of smugness, triumph and traces of unease yet approval, amusement and…affection. She knew what he had felt. Greg felt bare in front of her but he didn't hate it as much as he thought he would. Their silent exchange lasted only a minute, then Cuddy smiled and shook her head. She leaned closer and for an unpredictable, fleeting moment, Greg thought she was going to kiss him again.

" I win." She said it loud enough for anybody nearby to hear and he smiled and raised an eyebrow in reply for her to acknowledge, before she turned on her heel and stalked confidently away. He unabashedly watched her go, before turning to look at Wilson who's mouth was hanging open. He suddenly became aware of the hush that had fallen over the room and the many pairs of eyes trained on him.

Glancing around quickly, he picked out his juniors faces: Chase's eyes were wide, it looked as though the world as he knew it had crumbled; Foreman was suppressing the urge to laugh, he was obviously surprised and deeply amused; and Cameron wasn't attempting to hide the shock and disappointment painted clearly on her face.

"Christmas is a time of giving and incredibly inappropriate public gestures! Go forth and gossip!"

Greg's rough tones cut through the stillness and everyone seemed to snap out of a trace. When the noise had risen to a low murmur he turned back to Wilson, who, unlike everyone else, was still trapped in his state of shock, his mouth open.

" You know, that is a really unattractive look for you." Greg said.

" Wha… You…?"

" Can't… form… sentence." Greg replied mockingly. Wilson breathed deeply,

" What the hell was that?"

Greg allowed a small smile to himself before replying cryptically, " A dual."

" A…" Wilson didn't even bother repeating Greg's answer, knowing that it wouldn't be explained anyway, and watched as Greg grabbed a glass of wine from a table nearby, drained it in one. Greg nodded with resolve as he set the empty glass down again. He looked at Wilson, eyes wide, with a wicked grin and a look of intent. Then he turned and limped away…

…to find Cuddy.

_TBC?_


	2. Chapter 2

_This chapter's a bit short, but I thought it was a good place to stop :) ...Hope you like_

**Chapter 2**

In hindsight, Lisa decided, the roof was not the best place to go at eleven o'clock on a chilly December night. However, it had been quite a different story when she had first flung open the door to gasp in a lungful of winter air; achieving both relief, feeling fresh and clean, and pain as it stabbed at her insides like icy needles. At the time, she had been almost feverish with heat. She had forgotten what kissing Greg House did to her. It made her body tingle, so alive and hot, like nothing else she'd ever known, her core molten and her skin on fire, even worse in places where it was in contact with his. It had taken all her self-control to remain focussed in the brief aftermath when her eyes had locked with his (even that contact stirred fire low in her belly) and she had accomplished a cool appearance of assurance as she stalked out of the room, waiting until she was out of range of sight before dashing the rest of the way upstairs.

And still, as she shivered, leaning against the cold concrete of the waist-high wall at the roof's edge, she felt the subtle sting of stubble burns around her mouth. Even with the cold wind whipping around her, she couldn't escape the heat.

She never could.

And she had to keep her distance or risk being consumed by it.

The sky was clear of cloud cover and Lisa found the stars a beautiful distraction from both the cold and her thoughts. A childlike fascination and comfort in the millions of twinkling lights overhead. She found she actually managed to catch a few seconds of peace and freedom, the wine in her system a possible aid in this short lived feeling. That's all it ever was: short lived, momentary…And then it was broken by, possibly, the least welcome sound in the world at that moment; a sound her ears had become incredibly sensitive to, trained to pick it up…The soft clicking of a cane as it ascended the steps to the roof. A flood of emotion hit her and she wanted to cry. So she laughed, a throaty chuckle, and the door swung open with a creak to reveal…a white lab coat, swaying in the breeze, hanging on said cane.

" Go away, House." Amazingly, her voice was steady. His scruffy head popped absurdly into view offering a pouting bottom lip and sad puppy-dog eyes. She sighed, " This is how you use your lab coat?"

" I couldn't find a white flag…I thought a piece of paper would be boring."

" You're right, it would."

" I could still use my shirt." his eyebrows danced. " Might be a bit cold, though."

Lisa bit her lip. She would not laugh; she would not encourage him. No matter what…images his suggestion had brought to mind…

" And before you order me from your sight again, boss lady," she watched him shuffle foreword, still holding the walking aid and lab coat out awkwardly, like a flag, so the rest of him came into view and she could see what he was holding in his other hand, " I come baring a peace offering." House waved the bottle of wine enticingly at her and began to make his way over to where she was leaning.

" Let me guess, you-"

" -stole it? Pff! Hardly counts as stealing, the catering staff are idiots."

" Since I'm assuming it wasn't a quick getaway, they'd have to be."

She saw him grin in appreciation at her humour as he settled himself next to her, purposely invading her personal space…however, she couldn't bring herself to move away. She told herself it was because he was partially blocking the wind.

She had, so far, managed to sustain a disapproving frown on her face at his antics, but when he cradled the wine possessively to his chest and offered her his lab coat as, what seemed like, a consolation prize Lisa had to grin, shaking her head and covered her eyes with a hand momentarily.

" You're unbelievable." She took the coat off him.

" That is what they say." He produced a cork screw from his pocket, " Though, _you _would know, wouldn't you?"

There was a pop, and he took a swig. She watched the muscles in his throat move under the stubble, turning away before he noticed, feeling that strange sensation of heat within and cold without. Especially when he turned his gaze on her. House's singular contemplative gaze which she'd had focussed on her many times in the past. And at many of those times, just like now, his mind was a closed book to her and she had no idea what he was thinking. The rest of the time, she usually had a vague idea. His eyes, tonight, held less of his usual icy, piercing stare and more of a softer, liquid quality; but still, focussing on her intensely. She shivered, and this time it had nothing to do with the cold.

So she forced herself to break the moment, but neither could pretend it hadn't happened. She reached out for the wine bottle, still in his clutches,

" Mine. Now."

House smirked, " Or what? You gonna turn that hot, dangerous mouth on me again? Punish me with your wicked wiles?"

She nearly groaned; it had to come up sooner or later, she had just hoped to delay the inevitable for a little longer, " _You _kissed _me_!"

" But you kissed me back." Lisa found she couldn't retaliate, couldn't form a feasible excuse or denial and watched that smug grin of his grow, " And you're not denying it."

The silence, she found, was a physical form in the short space between them, crammed full of the things that weren't being said; everything they had ever said and done to each other; memories of the both of them: younger, happier, the arguments and chemistry between them all the talk around campus…And emotion, and want, and his face, now so serious; and the need to fully close the diminishing gap between them, and the years spent without the feel of his body against hers crashing down on her, and she reached for him in the same moment as he did for her.

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

_I know it took me AGES to write this chapter but it's annoying me too because I seem to have a bit of writers block :( ... but please bear with me. Thankyou all so much for the reviews!! They make me feel happy and really do encourage me a lot!_

_Still, sorry this is so short.

* * *

_

**Chapter 3**

The clatter of the cane as it was thrown aside echoed into the night, but the noise fell on passion-deaf ears. Greg allowed himself to grasp, stroke, trail territories that had long been denied but never forgotten. Cuddy was heat and softness in his arms, however she moved with strength and assertiveness, tongue plunging ever deeper to taste the sharp spiciness of the wine he'd kept to himself; hands, one weaving through his hair the other branding him on his neck, over his pulse-point; dragging him down and he met her demanding mouth with equal fervour.

With an unexpected surge for dominance, Greg pulled her around and pressed her back against the wall. She gasped into his mouth, back arching away from the cold concrete and pushing her body flush against his. He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest, thinking she must be completely lost in him to not object or show annoyance. Then she bit his lip, smiling all the while, and his need for the insufferable, breath-taking, evil, sexy woman increased ten fold. Greg's fingers flickered flames, soothing the cold of her lower back that her dress exposed and pressed her hips closer to his own. He moved to trail lips, tongue, teeth down her neck, tasting smooth, hot skin, seeking her pulsing rhythm. Her breathing was shallow, gasps and puffs of air against his ear. So much heat.

Her voice came out husky, and the rush of arousal that it caused almost made him miss her words,

" This is insane…We shouldn't…" He had little doubt that she was lacking conviction though.

" Neither one of us believes you." he murmured.

" We make each other miserable." her breathed hitched as he surreptitiously brushed his fingers over a breast.

" Misery loves company." He moved his attentions back up to her mouth in a bid to stop her talking. He had to smile inwardly when she didn't resist and greeted his kisses passionately.

" We fight," Kiss. " All the time

" We'll have fantastic make up sex…. Or angry sex." He said between kisses, "Any sex is fine."

" We can't do this…" Her barely spoken words having even less effect as her hands travelled downwards.

" We've done it before." His body, very much, continued to respond to her touch, whilst, at his words, his mind conjured a momentary memory…

…_of a younger, softer Lisa Cuddy, grinning seductively up at him from her position beneath him, arching up; their clothes thrown and scattered around her dorm room; his own throaty chuckles sending vibrations through both of their bodies before she did something incredible with her mouth and his breath caught in his throat as he gasped out her name. Sex had never been so fun, so challenging, so intense…_

He had a suspicion that, this time, it would've never been so good.

" Wait," her mouth was gone from his, and Greg literally growled in frustration. She pulled back enough to look at him, but not so much as to break contact completely and leave him standing on his own, in the open, breathing heavily and achingly, obviously hard. He knew she could feel him; why, oh why, did she have to stop?! " Is that what this is? Just a casual thing? Like before? Like…"

She trailed off; didn't voice it but he knew what she was thinking anyway…

_Pain. Loneliness. Self-hatred. And he's trying to outrun it mentally because he can't do it physically anymore. And Cuddy straddling him, because he can't even press and drive fast into her the way he wants to, is a blurred image due to alcohol and pain meds. But he can make out the silent tear tracks on her face because her mascara is running and he sees her tongue dart out to catch one of the salty drops. He immediately tries to taste it, kissing her deeply, roughly._

_Stacy's gone and he hates her. He hates the world and, yes, right now he hates Cuddy, too. But all he can do is fuck away his hate and pain. And she her guilt. _

He thought for a moment he could taste the bittersweet memory, the residue, when it hit him hard once more. And it seemed to have effected him because he found that he couldn't try to silence her or kiss away her doubts, because she was frowning, because she was - they both were - _feeling_ so much.

Greg looked down at her, amazed that, as the silence stretched on, she still had enough trust in him to remain in his arms, wrapped loosely around her waist. Amazed because she was vulnerable, and the fiery strength he'd felt in her before as she pressed her body to his had melted down to the calm, yet apprehensive, blue fire of her eyes. Eyes that he was getting lost in too damn easily. The same feeling that had gripped him earlier under the mistletoe rose as a tightening in his chest…or was he actually getting butterflies in his stomach?! He almost cringed. Because he didn't want this as a casual thing, his mind and body very much assured him of that, scarily so. Stupid that he could ever have tried to disassociate Cuddy with feelings when everything between them screamed nothing but, physical and emotional. He was being overwhelmed, losing control, and Gregory House did_ not _lose control. He couldn't yet define this, them; couldn't be sure of what _he _wanted never mind her. And so he did the only thing he felt he could do, he turned the pressure back onto her. Let her have the responsibility of preserving their relationship.

" Is that what you want?" he asked, and he knew he was a complete and utter bastard.

_TBC_


End file.
